


Ahínco

by captainhurricane



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College student!Scott, Dancer!Reyes, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 10:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11311395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: Sara knows too many things that little sisters shouldn't know. Scott kinda hate-loves it.It leads him to break a heart and kinda start mending one and meeting the man he admires so... it's all good, right?





	Ahínco

**Author's Note:**

> shrug emoji
> 
> bad real life news end up being writing stuff for me so
> 
> both are kinda drunk when stuff happens but not blackout drunk aka to not be able to consent so I won't tag dubious consent.

Scott Ryder is and has been aware of Reyes Vidal’s existence for the longest time. After all, the illustrious senór Vidal and his equally illustrious parents run in the same circles as most of Scott’s own family: Reyes even competing in the same competitions as Scott’s sweet yet fierce twin Sara, although on completely different levels as Reyes has apparently been a dancer before he had learned to walk and Sara’s an amateur- a very determined one but an amateur no less. Scott almost feels a little bad for her current dance partner- a sweet but quiet man named Jaal- to be swept up in Sara’s currents but with the way Jaal keeps making heart eyes at her back, maybe _Jaal_ doesn’t feel too bad about it.

Although Sara claims to want to dance instead of anything her father or her brother do out of passion, Scott can’t help but think it’s a little bit out of spite- Scott gets along with their father fine enough but Sara had clashed with Alec more than once and even now Ryder Snr refuses to admit that he’s proud of Sara actually winning in her competitions.

They’re both stubborn idiots.

(Scott loves them no less for it)

Still he thinks part of his sister’s drive to pave her way to the top of the dancing world comes from spite or least the need to dangle the truth of Scott’s years-long crush in front of him. First of all, it’s not a crush, it’s just admiration, okay. Second of all, Scott has a perfectly nice boyfriend and has had him for years. Thirdly, Reyes Vidal is in a different world than Scott and Scott prefers it that way.

Still Sara sometimes comes back from her competitions with a smirk on her face and another story to tell how she ran into Reyes Vidal and his current dance partner and might have hinted that her brother really wants Reyes’ autograph or least a selfie with Sara to tease Scott with.

Reyes, being the gentleman that he at least appears to be on social media and on TV, obliges. Scott very resolutely doesn’t tell Sara that he’s kept the autograph and has to fight with himself to not like all of Sara’s ridiculous Reyes-photos on her Instagram.

Sometimes Scott really regrets the moment Sara busted in when Scott had been knee-deep in high school essays, teenage acne and the dance competition had been in the background: because Scott’s attention had been on the goddamn TV, his face apparently laser focused on one pair in particular. He had claimed _it was nothing, really, Sara, leave it be_ but Sara had always had the sharpest end of their twin intuition and had narrowed her eyes at him, then followed his line of sight.

The instant she had smirked, Scott had known that he had lost. It hadn’t been the 17-year-old Reyes’ partner that he had paid attention to, he can barely remember the girl by now: no, it had been all about Tall Dark and Smirky who had already at that age grown close to the devilish good looks that he sports today.

Scott remembers the conversation that had followed that moment to this day, crystal clear.  How Sara had teased him mercilessly when he had flushed at the sight of a pink-cheeked smirking Reyes with a microphone in front of his face, that sultry voice practically purring through his interview.

(If you asked Scott now, he couldn’t tell you what the interview had been about or what Reyes had actually said. All he could remember was the low dip of Reyes’ shirt and the tantalizing amount of skin visible. It’s even worse nowadays because a teenaged Reyes had been a heartthrob but Reyes at a mesmerizing 24 is beyond words.)

 _Anyway._ People got crushes on random celebrities all the time, right? It doesn’t matter that Reyes Vidal’s parents are actually scientists in the same areas as Alec Ryder, it doesn’t matter that both of them had come to the Ryder house sometimes for dinner: thankfully without their A-lister son.

It doesn’t matter because Reyes Vidal is a figure on the screen for Scott: a handsome, seductive, ethereal figure, sure, but still someone far away. Scott refuses to go watch Sara’s competitions if he knows there’s even a chance of Reyes being there.

The fear has become irrational by now but still. The situation Scott has now works for him. He’s studying towards his degree in aerospace engineering, he has a perfectly nice, perfectly sweet boyfriend Gil who might not have Reyes’ abs of steel or a constant purr in his voice but he deals with Scott’s all-nighters and rants about his family. They even have perfectly nice dates and Gil even has the sweetest little Golden Retriever puppy who completely adores the world and all the people in it and Scott adores her back.

Still Scott doesn’t exactly tell Sara to stop. She tones it down though once Scott and Gil’s relationship extends from a few hook-ups, from a few days into weeks and a couple of months, so long that even their parents take notice.

Alec Ryder merely grunts and tells Scott to invite Gil someday for lunch.

Ellen Ryder merely looks up from her stacks of research papers and says that if Scott is happy, then she is happy.

At least Scott’s sexuality had never been a problem for either of them- in fact, it had been his mother who had cornered him when he had been tall gangly and fifteen and said that no matter who he likes, boys or girls or both, she loves him no less.

He had confessed falling in love with Reyes Vidal’s magical hips right at that moment and thought that had been that.

All in all, Scott doesn’t have it that bad. Sure, he has the most meddling, troublesome, irritating baby sister (“I’m one minute older than you, brother dear!”), often absent-minded parents and way too much school work to survive and a crush the size of Mt Everest but it’s all good. Everything’s good.

Until, of course, it isn’t.

x

Scott is in the middle of his third cup of black tea and halfway into the word count of his essay on lightyears and such when his phone rings. He rubs his aching temple and scrambles for his phone, half buried under books and papers and one old and fraying pencil case. He doesn’t have to look at the screen to know it’s Gil.

“Mm?”

_“Yo, can we like, talk?”_

Scott blinks, snapping out of statistics and Star Wars-filled day dreams. “Talk?”

_“Yeah, talk. You know, the thing we haven’t been doing for weeks?”_

Something hot and uncomfortable climbs through Scott’s throat. He nearly pushes his lukewarm tea off the kitchen table. “Uh.”

A groan from the other end of the call. Scott imagines Gil pacing his apartment’s floor, the puppy trying to play by biting his ankles. _“Scott. Look. I like you.”_

“That’s… good?” Scott drops his pen. Drops it again. Thinks back to the news article he had seen earlier about Reyes Vidal splitting from his longtime girlfriend slash dance partner Zia Garcia and not at all amicably. Although the mutual love turned mutual hostility had made their dances passionate, it had apparently- “Sorry what?”

Another groan, frustrated, maybe a little sad. Scott realizes with a jolt he can’t really tell anymore.

_“I said we’re done. I’m done.”_

“Hey, I- can’t we-“Scott’s mouth runs dry. He sits up straighter. His treacherous, unbelievably stupid mind pushes Reyes back into his head instead of his Actual Probably Almost Ex-Boyfriend.

_“No. Scott, honey, your mind’s been in the clouds since I met you and it was kinda endearing at first and all but what kind of a relationship is one where the participants don’t communicate? I like you but you clearly don’t like me as much I’d prefer.”_

“I do,” Scott insists while he knows it tastes much like a lie. What romance had been there had dwindled when they had become serious. When they had become stale, his brain offers and he nearly bites his tongue.

_“You don’t.”_

Scott opens his mouth to protest, to counter but shame clutches at his chest, tight and unyielding. “I’m sorry.”

 _“It’s… well. It’s not okay but I can understand. I hate you a little bit now though_.” Gil sounds defeated. Scott takes a deep breath. He put that sound there.

“I’m sorry,” Scott says again.

 _“Let’s be friends one day, buddy,”_ Gil murmurs, softer now. Like he wants to hide the clear rejection from his voice. _“For what it’s worth, I don’t think I was wasting my time with you. You’re sweet, Scotty. But you are just too much in your own head. Maybe someone else could pull you out of there.”_

Scott squirms. His treacherous, treacherous brain offers up a vivid image from Reyes’ latest competition, of his swiveling hips and his forehead pressed against his partner’s, lost in a moment of almost private passion.

“I don’t-“ he stutters, tries. “Gil, I don’t- I didn’t mean to.”

Gil laughs. _“Nobody means to hurt their loved ones until they do. See you around, Scotty.”_

They say their softest, tiniest goodbyes.

Scott lets the phone drop, momentarily stunned, cheeks flushed with shame. Had he really… ? Had he really been so neglectful? There had been so many exams and essays and lectures that Scott had barely kept track of his social media, much less his social life in real life. Gil understands, sure, he does all-nighters himself and often keeps a ridiculous schedule but Gil shouldn’t have to understand.

Scott closes his eyes, presses the heels of his hands against his eyelids and inhales, inhales, inhales and exhales in one huge swoop of air.

His eyes remain dry, nausea remains in his stomach.

He gathers his homework and not for the first time thinks that maybe he should get an apartment with a dozen roommates so his heart won’t ever feel this hollow. Sara makes for a cool roommate in a way twin sisters do but she’s either away dancing in competitions or practices or at clubs or saving the world and when she’s around, it’s a little like they’re still little kids dancing around their parents’ feet.

Scott sighs. He never did move in with Gil, although Gil had asked, had hinted, sometimes so unsubtly that even a moron like Scott had realized. But he had never said yes.

I’m a fucking dumbass.

x

x

Sara isn’t surprised when Scott tells her the reason for the black bags under his eyes and the state of his hair. Yet she doesn’t judge him, doesn’t try to comfort in words. Instead she sits down next to him on their crappy little couch, wraps her arms around him and lets him choose reality TV to watch. He doesn’t cry although he thinks he should: he still takes deep, deep breaths and fights against the black spots under his eyelids. Sara says only one thing that evening and that is:

“For what it’s worth, my goofy big little brother, you have me and I love you to bits.”

He squeezes her tighter.

x

Scott doesn’t delete Gil’s number, doesn’t unfollow or block him anywhere. Just… tries not to think about it. Scott does send him a text message- how cowardly, he damn well knows- and doesn’t expect a response.

**To: Gil**

_For what it’s worth, I don’t regret being together with you and I totally understand that you hate me. Not forever though… right? I know it’s stupidly selfish and all but I don’t want you to disappear._

_I’m really sorry I’ve neglected you. I’m really really sorry. For what it’s worth, if I had pulled my head out of my ass, I could have- no shti sorry_

**From: Gil**

_Considering I work for your dad it’d be kinda impossible for me to disappear into the ether anyway, buddy. Just… not yet. Hey, I’m not stupid. I notice when I’m being ignored and I notice when it’s done out of malice. You don’t do it out of malice just, I don’t know._

_I don’t live my life having regrets so don’t you dare worry your pretty head over that. You weren’t the worst boyfriend I’ve ever had._

_We’re all just human, Scotty. Sometimes we don’t work with each other the way we should. Heartache is a bitch but I’m a big boy._

_Apology accepted. I’m gonna be jealous a little while of the fact that someone else is gonna get you (I know the face you’re gonna make right at this point, the one that says you don’t believe you’re beautiful as fuck) and someone will but as I said… I’m a big fucking boy. I can take it._

_Now stop moping._

Scott covers his eyes and realizes they are wet, they are finally wet. His heart aches but for whom, he can’t really tell.

x

x

Like a dark, handsome guardian angel, Reyes Vidal pushes his way through Scott’s moping in the form of an Instagram-post. Scott had at first been reluctant to even follow Reyes; it had felt like cheating to Gil- or anyone predating Gil. Which is, of course, the most ridiculous thought to have but Scott never claimed to be anything but.

Reyes generally posts very little outside of his vacations, selfies, buildings; selfies together with the occasional dance partner slash girlfriend or boyfriend. There’s even one- Scott’s favourite- from last year’s Pride parade of Reyes shirtless.

Now that had felt like cheating.

The post that snaps Scott out of it, an immeasurable number of days after the breakup is this: somebody, a manager or a friend, snapping a photo of Reyes from an airport. A familiar airport. In fact, the airport that’s barely a stone’s throw away from Scott and Sara’s apartment. It’s familiar because of how often Scott had seen his twin or his parents off to conferences or competitions, Scott even knows the exact corner the photo is taken, had been standing on it himself long enough.

(It doesn’t help how unfairly good Reyes looks, how effortless it seems to come to him. He’s even grinning a bit. Yet doesn’t he look a little tired? Is Scott even allowed to think he knows what little quirks of Reyes Vidal’s face mean?)

Reyes is here. _Here._ With a pang of guilt, Scott thinks of Gil, wonders if this isn’t just a need for a rebound or something and definitely not the chatter of a longtime crush coursing through Scott’s veins.

Reyes goddamn Vidal with his ridiculous cheekbones and ridiculously soft looking hair and ridiculously sexy hips is in the same goddamn city. As far as Scott knows, there’s not even a competition or anything. And who would come here for a vacation?

Scott wheezes. Just a bit. He jumps up from the couch and sways, starts to pace. Carefully likes the picture, hopes that his like will be buried in the mountains of other likes (1204 right now) and Reyes isn’t the type to follow his followers.

He immediately texts his sister, her practice be damned.

**To: Sara**

_Did you know Reyes Vidal is apparently in our city????_

Her response arrives an anxious half an hour later.

**From: Sara**

_OMG_

**From: Sara**

_we should meet him and finally introduce you two_

**To: Sara**

_OR NOT. I just got out of a relationship_

**To: Sara**

_and it’s a big city it’s not like it’s uh_

Scott barely has the time to lower his phone when it buzzes. Sara’s name flashes on the screen as Scott answers it.

_“Why did you text me then if you don’t want to accidentally bump into him somewhere? It’s not like I expect you two to hook up. You’ve just been so hung up on him forever that I thought-“_

Scott sighs. “It’s fine. It’s- I just feel- I don’t-“ he groans in frustration and begins to pace once more. “Just. It’s a big city. We can’t just stalk him or anything. Why would he even wanna meet some random person like me? I have nothing to do with dancing. I can’t even dance.”

Sara snorts. _“Now that’s a damn lie, Scotty. Maybe you’re not a master of dips and turns but you’re flexible, you’re my twin brother and I’ve seen you at clubs long enough to know you at least know your rhythm. You’re not the worst.”_

“Not the point,” Scott says and realizes it’s a little whiny but who cares, it’s Sara and Sara’s seen him at his best and his worst.

 _“I’ve got his number, you know,”_ Sara says, sickeningly sweet.

Scott’s steps and words still. “That’s nice,” he tries.

Sara giggles. _“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna take him away from you.”_

Heat surges through Scott’s body and he huffs. “When will you let this go.”

Sara makes kissy sounds. _“Never. Or at least until you come with me and the others to this cool place on Friday!”_

Scott squints, even though she can’t see it. “Cool place? Your definition of a cool place is definitely not my definition of a cool place, sis.”

_“This one is gonna be. Don’t worry, it’s not gonna be just third-wheeling me and Jaal, I invited Vetra and the others too. Just a nice evening between friends and your best sister, okay?”_

Scott smiles. He doesn’t want to. But upwards his lips still go. “You’re my only sister.”

_“Pffffsthaaaw. Semantics, brother dear. So it’s a deal then? I’ll tell Vetra to pick us up with her truck. We’ll make a proper entrance.”_

“Although you are a meddlesome, troublesome, irritating little shit, I love you, sis,” Scott says.

Sara laughs _. “Although you are a workaholic, no fun allowed airhead, I still love you, bro.”_

“Don’t ever call me bro,” Scott huffs.

 _“No different than you calling me sis,”_ Sara strikes back.

“Semantics,” Scott says and listens, a little delighted at Sara’s answering burst of laughter.

_“Bye then, you big dumbo. Don’t worry, I’ll help you wear something saucy.”_

She hangs up before he can protest against her word choice. Scott has a perfectly nice wardrobe, thank you very much, he’s not incapable of dressing himself, double thank you very much. He doesn’t own anything saucy though: nothing his sister would call saucy. Oh, there are those jeans that Gil liked on him, that one shirt that matches his eyes, the other one that shows his biceps, that one that’s barely more than mesh and has been buried at the bottom of his wardrobe for the longest time.

It’s probably a club though so what does it matter what he wears?

It’s going to be dark and everyone’s going to be drunk, Scott himself included. It shouldn’t matter. But why is Sara so insistent? What does it matter that she apparently has the phone number of one Reyes goddamn Vidal?

Scott toys with his phone long after the call is ended. He goes back to Instagram, looks at the photo again. Maybe he’s just overthinking and Reyes is visiting a friend or something. Despite being a celebrity, he’s still a human being and has every right to do what he wants with his life without asking a nobody like Scott.

Every right.

Scott still finds himself hoping that he could put this infatuation to rest at some point. Maybe by meeting Reyes face to face. It’s a surefire way to know if there’s even a point to having a crush on someone unattainable, right?

_Right?_

x

Vetra Nyx’s truck is a thing of monstrous beauty and an incredibly fitting vehicle for its owner. She’s more Sara’s friend- a close friend, apparently, Scott had even once asked if there is something more between them and Sara had given him the stink-eye- than his but Vetra likes him fine enough and he likes her fine enough.

She is a little intimidating though, in a way women taller than him always are.

Then there’s Liam that Scott greets with a fist bump, the ever-flighty Peebee who pushes back her fluffy blue hair and drapes herself over at least three people’s laps. Even the ever-steady Cora from Sara’s circles is flush-cheeked and giggling.

 Their chatter instantly eases Scott’s nerves and he lets himself drown in it, joins in in the conversation when it suits him and gets crowded with kisses from everyone involved.

No one mentions Gil, even when Gil is actually one of their friends too. Maybe that’s why Suvi declined to join in, maybe she’s keeping him and Lady the puppy company.

Scott buries the bang of guilt in the bottle of liquor Peebee shoves into his hands, already half-empty.

“Chug, chug, chug!” Sara yells from the passenger site. Vetra’s warm, low chuckle echoes in Scott’s ears and he obeys, gulping until he’s spluttering and the girls are giggling, Liam is patting his back and even Jaal wakes up from his catnap to snort at the sight.

“So, Sara,” Scott pushes his way between their friends to peek over his sister’s shoulder. “What’s this club we’re going to?”

Sara’s elegant eyebrows rise. She squints at him. “How do you know it’s a club- shit, I mean-“

He snorts. She snorts. “Because you’re obvious, big little sister,” Scott huffs and reaches to ruffle her hair. Instead she swats his hand away and insists it’s already perfectly styled, thanks!

They gently bicker and tease each other, Peebee tells yet another story of her numerous rescue pets, even Vetra pipes in with a story about her grumpy old neighbour- who’s apparently just called Drack and has more scar than smooth skin- that gets them all cackling in half-drunken stupor.

They’re all gently buzzed by the time Vetra parks her monster beside flashing lights and what sounds devastatingly like salsa.

“Sara Elisa Ryder,” Scott says in his best Alec Ryder-voice. Sara whistles. Avoids his gaze. She leads their little murder of the crows to the front door, flashes a smile at the buff doorman who takes one look at her and instantly offers a highfive.

Apparently they are on some kind of a list because the doorman waves them through past the queue. Scott’s eyebrows climb up and up but nobody answers his queries.

“Just deal with it,” Jaal purrs into his ear and pats him in the back gently. Scott lets himself be ushered inside, where the air itself turns stifling and hot, where the purring, sensual rhythm instantly slips into his skin. It brings to mind all of Reyes’ performances, all of Sara’s performances in their respective categories but this is wilder, this is more free, not bound by rules and judges and rewards.

Scott burns by the time they climb upstairs to a VIP lounge of all things where they drape themselves over various couches and chairs and designate Jaal and Vetra as the drink-buyers for the first round.

“Ooooohhhhhhh,” says Sara after a good thirty minutes of idle chatter and jokes that leave their stomachs aching and the amount of shot glasses and beer glasses and drink glasses on their table stacking. The sound vibrating in their bones has changed into something sultry enough to make Scott squirm in his chair. His tongue is thick in his mouth, his shirt tugged open until half of his chest is visible. It’s hot, okay.

“Oooh?” Scott makes his way to his twin, who’s currently practically hanging off the railing. She turns to look at him, her smirk dangerous.

“Look who’s here, brother mine.”

Scott stills. Blinks. What? “What?” He’s barely aware of their friends ceasing their chatter. Barely aware of how tightly Sara is gripping his arm when he looks down.

There’s a perfect view from their lounge to the dance floor, to the writhing mess of bodies: there’s currently a space made for a couple in the middle, the woman’s hair bright enough to burn Scott’s drunken eyes, the man’s movements oddly famil- wait a minute- Scott makes a sound, must have made a sound because Sara coos and pinches his cheek and their friends start blabbering again.

“Why don’t you go down and join him, brother dear?” She slurs, just a bit and even kicks him in the shin. Scott shoves her face away.

“Hell no. Not drunk enough.”

Peebee takes it upon herself to step over their table with care and drape herself on his lap, her gift to him being a probably smuggled bottle of liquor.

“Take a sip. Go have a rebound-fuck. It’ll do you good,” she says in her usual unfiltered way. She practically shoves the bottle down his throat when he doesn’t move instantly.

“Rebounds aren’t nice for anyone involved,” Scott tries but the liquor burns and with it, burns everything stopping him from doing just that. Not that he truly thinks Reyes Vidal will look at a lanky, uncoordinated mess that much: not when Reyes could have anyone and Scott is kind of okay-looking (even when Gil had said he’s pretty more than once, even when his friends keep calling him pretty, handsome, beautiful). But Reyes Vidal has been put on a pedestal and now Scott’s steps on the stairs still, he almost turns back when his friends start to whistle at him.

“We’ll cheer you on!”

Scott can’t help but grin.

He listens to the song reach its crescendo and is glad that he chose to go sleeveless and with a pair of looser pants. Upstairs is hot but downstairs is practically stifling. Scott is boiling when he gets to the dance floor, Peebee’s words ringing in his ears, the whispers and the laughter of the people around him surrounding him. He slips between people, lets out a few startled giggle when he’s grabbed, grinded on, a few _hey there, pretty!_ shouted his way. The closer he gets to the center of the floor, the more he hears the same name repeated again and again: Reyes, Reyes, Reyes.

Scott takes a deep breath once he gets through and can finally see what everyone else already sees: it is Reyes Vidal, less glamorously dressed than on TV but no less enchanting: his hair is falling on his face and stuck on his temples, his shirt stuck on his skin and currently trailing his hand between the tantalizing cleavage of his current dance partner whose lips are open in what could be pleasure or just focus.

Scott stares.

He’s never seen Reyes in real life. Never like this. Reyes pulls his companion back up, their foreheads meet, their mouths open in laughter before Reyes twirls her around him and practically grinds against her backside. Scott  finds himself swaying to the now slower rhythm, spurred on by the people, by the music, by the sight of Reyes sharing a kiss with his lady friend before she twirls her way free and blows him a kiss. Another hopeful, a man this time, inches closer and grins when Reyes beckons with a twist of an elegant eyebrow and a swish of hips that makes Scott’s mouth go utterly dry. He doesn’t recognize any of these songs but something about them makes him want to do unspeakable things to the man in front of him.

Scott is biting his lip when Reyes dips his new partner and casually sways with him until both look even drunker than they probably are. Scott watches sweat trickle down the side of Reyes’ head, watches those hands grab his partner’s thighs and hips and head, watches and yearns.

Maybe it’s divine intervention or a lucky coincidence, but when Reyes pulls off another dip, he happens to look up.

Straight at Scott.

Scott makes a noise, something that at least vanishes into the blare of the music around them and to his own surprise, doesn’t immediately bolt. Instead he bites his lip and  tilts his head, a move that had ended Gil’s self-control more than it hadn’t- and oh, Reyes’ eyes darken considerably, looking at Scott from top to bottom to his eyes.

Reyes pulls his companion back up but not without winking at Scott.

Scott doesn’t even try to prevent a grin from spreading on his face. He looks up when he hears wolf-whistles, throws his sister the middle-finger. Sara returns it with an obscene gesture of her own that makes Peebee howl with loud laughter and Scott’s cheeks heat up even more.

He looks back down to his own level and finds himself face to face with the man he hasn’t been dreaming about almost non-stop for years, who has pretty much ruined all other men for him.

“Ah,” Scott says.

“Dance with me, angel eyes,” Reyes purrs, his finger carefully brushing Scott’s revealed skin. Reyes’ hips keep swaying, utterly hypnotic and Scott nearly salivates.

“I’d rather-“ Scott starts, his mouth snapping shut when his hands apparently moves on its own and reaches for Reyes’ hips.

Reyes smirks, grabs Scott’s hips and pulls him close. “You come here often, amante?”

“No,” Scott manages and curls his fingers around Reyes’ belt loops. Goddammit, but he burns, from the inside out. This close Reyes’ eyes look almost golden. This close he smells like spices and sweat and fuck it all, but Scott wants to lick him.

“I’ll teach you,” Reyes purrs and his gaze drops lower, then goes back up. Scott bites his lip.

“I would have noticed you,” Reyes continues, quieter now, for Scott’s ears only as they move in considerably easier ways than Reyes and his previous partners.

“Sure,” Scott huffs, lets himself be twirled and has to bite back a laugh.

“Who wouldn’t have noticed an actual angel in our midst?” Reyes hums, shifting so that his chest is pressed tight against Scott’s back, Scott’s head thrown back in helpless laughter. Reyes’ hot fingers slip beneath his shirt to tease.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Scott huffs when they’re face to face again, hips automatically shifting with Reyes’ movements. Reyes’ gaze drops to his lips again, then back to his eyes.

“And all the pretty boys I see,” Reyes says with another devastating wink and then has the audacity to dip Scott, Scott’s eyes widening, mouth opening in to let out a surprised yell that never comes when Reyes is already pulling him back up. Their foreheads smush against each other, Scott laughing, Reyes smirking.

“It helps that I recognize you, Scott Ryder,” Reyes purrs, his thumb brushing over Scott’s bitten lower lip. Desire, dizzyingly strong desire surges through Scott at that and for a moment he’s stunned.

“You do?”

Reyes huffs, grinds against him again. “I know your sister. Lovely, but doesn’t quite hold a candle to you.” At that last word, Reyes’ hand creeps down to Scott’s ass to gently pat it. Scott lets out another ungraceful noise, twirls himself away from his sultry companion, cheeks utterly aflame.

Scott opens his mouth to say that they should maybe stop by now but Reyes beckons, actually fucking beckons, with the finger and the wink and Scott rolls his eyes (mainly for the show) and lets himself be pulled back in.

“For an amateur, you move like a pro seducer,” Reyes hums into his ear. Reyes’ hands have long since abandoned all sense of proprierty and have dived into Scott’s backpockets. The rational part of Scott’s mind is screaming at him- sounding much like his father- but he shoves it away, under miles and miles of alcohol and Reyes Vidal’s entire, unbearable existence.

“What does that even mean?” It doesn’t come out as snooty as he means it to, instead he’s breathless, practically panting with every step he takes with Reyes.

“That your hips don’t lie, mister Ryder,” Reyes hums, shifting closer and closer until there’s not an inch of space between them, the sway of their hips perfectly in sync, their lips so close to each other.

“Your hips are the ones that don’t,” Scott starts, licking his lip. “I’ve watched your competitions forever.” He doesn’t mean to say it.

It’s worth it, just to see Reyes’ eyebrow rise, the smirk turning into a smile. “You’ve been watching me?”

Scott hums, lets himself fall deeper and deeper, even slips a few fingertips beneath Reyes’ shirt. He can’t look away from Reyes’ lips. It would only take a little to lean forward.

“When your sister first showed me your profile, I was mesmerized,” Reyes purrs, those lips curving up.

“How so?” Scott shifts, lets himself be pushed away, then pulled back in.

 _“Hermoso,_ one look at your face and even God would cry from the sheer beauty of it. Too bad there was apparently a boyfriend in the picture,” Reyes continues, his finger trails down Scott’s cheek, ends up on Scott’s lips. Scott makes a little whine and sucks on it. Reyes’ hitch of breath sends another trail of fire down inside him.

“No longer,” Scott murmurs, already grabbing Reyes’ hand and beginning to pull him away from the center of the floor.

“No longer?” Reyes blinks. His smile remains.

“Apparently my head’s not in the game,” Scott shrugs, utterly taken with this idea, with the way Reyes’ pulse is rapid under his grip, with the way Scott’s groin just throbs.

“Where are you leading me, you minx?” Reyes huffs, amused as he follows Scott through the crowd and towards the general vicinity of bathrooms.

“To hopefully lots of kisses and touches,” Scott mutters, faltering a little when Reyes stills.

“In the club bathrooms?” Reyes asks, pushing for Scott to go ahead. “You sure, sweetcheeks? I’m down if you are, though, not the first time someone suggests we get down and dirty in a bathroom.”

Scott clams up at that, nearly pulls back before Reyes pushes both of them into one of the spacious stalls and locks the door behind them.

“I haven’t accepted anyone’s suggestions for quite a while though,” Reyes says and pushes for Scott to sit down.

“Oh?” Scott’s voice seems to have faded into the void of lust that’s his brain right now.

“Especially now that the plan your delightful sister and me has actually born fruit,” Reyes says and before Scott can squeak a question, Reyes promptly straddles his hips and wraps muscled, gleaming arms around Scott’s neck.

“Plan?” Scott manages, already mouthing at Reyes’ jaw.

“She knows I’m interested in you. She knows you’re interested in me. Here we are,” Reyes murmurs, slides his hot, hot fingers into Scott’s hair and rolls his hips in a way that makes Scott twitch.

“Dammit, Sara,” Scott huffs. “I can get laid perfectly well on my o-ohh-“

Reyes rolls his hips again, hands cupping Scott’s face. “Look up, angelface?”

Scott’s grip on Reyes’ hips tighten when he does, only to part his lips in a tiny, not at all surprised oh when Reyes leans onwards to kiss him, to smash their lips together in one ferocious swoop, practically eating up each little whine Scott lets out.

Scott grows bold enough to grab a handful of Reyes’ ass, to even push up with his own hips. Reyes’ brief laughter is utterly delighted as he slips his tongue between Scott’s lips. Reyes rolls his hips again and Scott aches and aches and aches.

They grab and pull at each other’s clothes, mouths crashing, teeth clacking, tongues licking. It’s probably completely illegal and inappropriate to do this here but Reyes burns hotter than the sun and Scott is this close to exploding: especially if he doesn’t get some goddamn friction on his cock soon. Reyes pulls back from a hundredth kiss with a wink and easily drops to his knees between Scott’s legs.

“Uh,” Scott starts. “You don’t have to-“

“Maybe, but I want to,” Reyes says. Another wink and he’s pulled a condom from what can’t be anything but a secret pocket somewhere  in his mysteriously tight pants. Reyes wastes no time in freeing Scott’s erection and even littler time in pulling on the condom and swallowing Scott’s entire, perfectly average length whole.

Scott slams a hand on his mouth to make sure he doesn’t actually howl. His other hand reaches for Reyes’ hair and grabs a fistful.

Reyes hums and doesn’t appear to have a gag reflex as his tongue and lips take on the task of sucking and licking and kissing until Scott is audibly whining even through the fist he’s biting.

“What a sweet face you’re making, pretty,” Reyes murmurs, mouthing at Scott’s tip. Reyes is stroking him now with firm, determined strokes, changing between strokes and sucks and driving Scott up the wall.

“Reyes,” Scott whines and tugs at Reyes’ hair. “Up, please, up, kiss me.”

“Not yet, hermoso,” Reyes purrs and promptly deepthroats Scott’s cock.

Scott explodes. Figuratively. And a tiny bit literally because  his back arches, his cock spills into the condom and continues to spill until Reyes’ warm, wet mouth withdraws and Reyes’ equally warm hands are pulling off the condom from Scott’s spent cock.

“So, how-“ Reyes starts, sentence fading into a barely bitten back laugh when Scott pulls him back to his lap and pulls his head down for a kiss.

“Let me do the same,” Scott says, his own voice oddly low in his ears. He can’t look away from his companion: so he doesn’t, practically drinks in the sight of a debauched Reyes Vidal smirking between his legs and slowly, slowly pulling Scott up to unsteady feet.

“The floor is rather hard, angelito,” Reyes purrs and kisses him once more, twice more, thrice more and gropes him through his pants. Scott pants when he pushes Reyes to sit down and kneels, eagerly accepting the condom Reyes pulls out from what Scott now sees is a tiny pocket sewn to the inside of Reyes’ waistband.

“You can never be too careful,” Reyes remarks, pushing his pants to mid-thigh to reveal his length. He’s not as long as Scott but fuck it if that thickness isn’t setting every single one of Scott’s nerves on fire. He bites back a drunken, hysteric giggle and spits into his palm, wrapping it around Reyes.

Reyes hums, one of the club songs under his breath. He caresses back hair from Scott’s face.

Scott works the condom on Reyes’ swollen length, panting and salivating like a Pavlov’s dog  and attacking the instant he can, wrapping his lips around Reyes’ tip, swirling his tongue over the slit.

Reyes pretty much purrs. “Should have gotten in touch with you sooner, angel eyes,” he says, dragging his fingers through Scott’s hair as Scott pours attention all over his dick. “You are a sight for sore eyes.”

Scott looks up, meets Reyes’ eyes and winks.

Reyes shudders, his smirk wavering. “Minx,” he groans, giving Scott’s head a tug, urging him to take Reyes deeper. Scott squeezes his eyes closed and guides himself deeper, then back up, then deeper, quickening his pace until Reyes is biting back stifled moans, his other leg wrapping around Scott to keep him in place.

“More tongue on the underside, just- j-just like that, you’re doing good, you’re so good for me, angel,” Reyes hisses, both of his hands by now in Scott’s hair, tangled in his strands.

Scott flushes at the praise, taking Reyes deep, easing up the pace again and then quicker until he has to pull back to draw air back to his lungs.

“Look up,” Reyes hums, gently tugging at Scott’s earlobe. Scott does, blinking up, Reyes’ entire length buried in his mouth and throat.

Reyes licks his lips. “Fuck.” And then he shudders, then his body is tensing up and Scott sucks and strokes him through it, already blushing deep with the images of them doing this without condoms, of swallowing Reyes’ load in its entirety or-

Scott pulls back before he can fall any deeper and quickly deposits the condom to the trash.

Both of them pull up their pants, and pull each other up but not without kisses that leave both giggling and even more breathless than before. They stumble out of the stall and manage to make washing their hands and faces a chore, what’s with all the kissing and groping.

Scott is buzzing, high on adrenaline and alcohol and who knows what else.

“Reyes,” he says, just to say it.

Reyes raises an eyebrow. Scott is glad that the bathroom is empty for now so he can pull Reyes back for another kiss that earns him a pinched bottom.

“Minx,” Reyes says.

“Only for you,” Scott says and flushes.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
